Against All Odds: How Subscribing to My Favourite eGirl Changed Everything [FM][18+][Long, Slow][Prompt Inspired][Wholesome]

3:27am.

It was 3:27am and I hadn’t slept a wink. I’d lain there, in vain, for so long that my face and pillow had merged into an amorphous blob, but the sweet release into nothing wouldn’t come.

Was it stress? Unlikely; what did I have to be stressed about? My tuition was taken care of by a generous scholarship, and coursework came easily to me. Could it be boredom? Maybe. I’d been scrolling on reddit so long that my thumb was cramping. I know you shouldn’t lay in bed on your phone, but I couldn’t help it. Scrolling or not scrolling, the result would be the same.

Frustrated beyond belief, I gave up. Throwing my phone to the other end of my dorm bed, I pawed at my laptop and resolved to find something less menial to distract me while I waited for dawn. A dozen icons resolved themselves as my desktop came up. Not in the mood to play anything, I was loathe to even consider looking at coursework, and wasn’t overly tempted by the thought of listening to music.

The only option left to me, as you might suspect was always going to be the case, was to jerk off.

And now, dear reader, the private negotiation of how to best serve my intimate whim. There was the tried and true method of logging into TubeStars and cherry picking from my saved favourites, which ran the risk of offering almost too much choice sometimes. I could gamble with the roulette of hitting the ‘Random Video’ button; a risky play, but occasionally worth the chance to stumble upon something new. There was also the option to see if any of the girls I followed on JustAdmirers had posted anything new since earlier in the day. My folks would be so mad if they knew how much of my full-ride scholarship funding was spent on KaylaB’s nudes. I’m sure I’d paid at least a month of her rent by now; I followed a half dozen other girls on a rotating basis, but Kayla was my favourite by far. Just thinking about the things she did with that pink dildo I’d sent off her wishlist last month had my cock twitching eagerly. My mind was made up.

I don’t know what it was about her, honestly. She wasn’t popular, with only around 60 fans paying a modest $5 or $10 a month to see her stuff, but I felt strongly that she was criminally underrated. Sure, she didn’t show her face, but the internet is a weird place to be a woman, so I couldn’t hold it against her. She was, in a word, sensational. Her profile said she was 19, which meant we were the same age, and that she was studying Journalism in school; as an English major, knowing that she could probably write competently certainly added to the appeal. I don’t have to tell you, surely, that her body was just remarkable too; so naturally curvy and squeezable, I adored the way she jiggled *just so* when she bounced up and down on her toys. The other guys that lived on my floor were constantly competing for the attention of the slim, fit, cheerleader types on campus, but not me. I liked big hips, strong thighs, the kind of boobs you could take a nap between, and just a little bit of tummy. Kayla had all that, and more. She was perfect.

I clicked ‘login’ and groped around in the dark for something I’d eventually catch my latest offering to Kayla with. A pair of boxer shorts would do, for now. A little orange notification in the top right of my screen told me that there were new posts by at least one of the girls I followed; I scanned the list that folded out. A new vid from AngelSkyy that I’d check out later, another timeline post from MsRiskey to apologize for another week of not posting (I needed to cancel that one), and the prize I’d come here in search of: KaylaB has made a new post!

I kicked the sheet off furiously while waiting for her page to load, freeing my cock to spring to life in impatient eagerness at what was sure to be another stunning peek into the life of the most gorgeous woman on earth. My heart sank just a little bit when it opened, which had nothing to do with the cute picture of her seated at her desk studying, one boob freed from her tank top, and a pouty curl to the lips that she rarely showed. The accompanying message read:

“Hey guys! First of all, you know that I love you all to bits! I get so many sweet messages from you guys all the time and, even though there’s not many of you, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to have so much positivity in my life from you all! So thank you for that! As you all know, I’m a full time student, and that comes with certain limitations to how much I can do here; I know I’d probably make this more worth people’s time if I showed my face, but it’s just not an option for me :(((. I’ve tried promoting my stuff a little bit to get more interest going here, but tuition is coming due soon and I’m gonna have to get a real job to pay for it :(((( I’ll still stick around as best I can here, but won’t be able to commit as much time to videos and will probably be slow to respond for a little bit while I focus on getting things settled. DON’T WORRY THOUGH you little monsters, I’m not going anywhere for now. I love you i love you i love you MWAH”.

For now. She said she wasn’t going anywhere for now. She might as well be gone already. I was devastated. I idly cruised away from her page and tried to get myself off to a video I’d saved earlier, but the ridiculous studio quality bullshit and fake moans of the starlet as some meathead rubbed his cock between her tits was just annoying. I gave up on cumming and finally fell into a fitful sleep, filled with nightmares in which I was forced to show all of my cum soaked underwear to my high school gym class.

*********************************************

I awoke grumpily, and I don’t mind admitting it; you might think I’m lame or sad or pathetic for letting something like this get to me, but it doesn’t matter. I did care about her.

When I found her last year, my first at university, I was literally too awkward to talk to women. Seriously. Even posting messages to class portals for my courses was hard because I knew cute girls in my year might read them and think I was stupid. Not Kayla. Every message I ever sent her was warm and amiable, and actually felt genuine. I know that’s part of her making sure I stay subscribed, but it was good practice for me, and had given me tons of confidence that I’d never developed on my own. When my dad took off with his sidepiece last year, and I was struggling with watching him be a better dad to the children of a women only 5 years older than me, Kayla played 23 games of Connect 4 with me in a row, just to keep me company. Hell, earlier this semester I had almost asked a girl from my Composition class out, all because of the consistently positive, carefree approach to life that my favourite fan site girl modelled on a daily basis. I didn’t follow through with it, but that’s not the point.

Knowing I needed to be in lecture in a half hour, I slunk out of bed. I couldn’t let this get me down. She was her own person and needed to do right for herself. How would it be if, hypothetically, she found out how upset I was about her need to pay rent. It sounded pathetic in my head. She worked hard, wanted to make something of herself, put positivity out into the world every single day, and I was here like an absolute fucking bum, upset that I might not see her tits again. Even I thought I was lame. I could do better. I would do better. For her.

It struck me, halfway through American Lit. The most brilliant plan I’d ever had. While I was busy chewing the end of my pen and ignoring the professor’s half-baked points on Raymond Carver and what it meant to hop swimming pools in the 1950s, the sight of a girl absentmindedly rubbing some lotion on chapped hands solved all the problems I’d brought to school with me. I had to get home.

****************************************

I rushed off the bus and practically ran to my room, not even bothering with an excuse to get out of beer pong with my roommates. They could lose to the 3rd floor guys just fine without me.

I slapped my laptop down on the little desk in my rented room and typed the password to my JustAdmirers account wrong 4 times, cursing profusely at the lost time. Didn’t my fingers know that this was an emergency? Finally in, I opened the DMs.

== Hey! Are you there?

I waited. Two minutes. Three. Five. I took off my shoes and jacket while I waited, and generally fidgeted. 8 minutes, it was an effort not to double message. Dave knocked on my door to ask if I’d be coming up later or if they should wait anymore. Resisting the urge to tell him to fuck off entirely, I hollered that I’d be up later. 9 minutes.

\KaylaB is typing…

I thought I’d vomit. We chatted nearly weekly, but the stakes were high today.

\ hey goofball! I’m here!!

I hadn’t thought this far ahead. I mean, I had, but not *really* thought about it.

== I saw the post last night, bummer about that huh?

\ Yeahhhhh haha but a girl’s gotta eat lol

== That’s the truth lol

== Wish I could help :(((

== Gonna miss having you as active

\ You’re sweet :(( I mean, it might not take that much out of me, i just need to pull in a liiiiiittle bit more.

Time to shoot my shot.

== and you can’t do that here? surely there’s gotta be something more

\ wdym

== could do ratings? like cock rating? idk just an idea lol

\ yeah but I don’t think I could fake the enthusiasm to look at all that dick lmaoooo half the dudes that follow me are older than my dad

== oh uhhhh yeah maybe not that then haha

== premium snap or something?

\ I thought of that, but it’s against the site terms of service :s

== damn uhhh haha

== really thought I was on to something

// you’re a babe for trying lmao [open attachment]

I grinned like a devil as I opened the live photo she’d sent; lips blowing a kiss from up close with her ample cleavage generously displayed.

== I hope you know how hot that is!

\ I obviously do, tiger ;) haha

== just one more idea…

\ ??? tell me

== would you do a custom, just for me? I know its not your thing and I wouldn’t ask for anything that would eat up any time at all

\ i don’t knowwww

\ what did you have in mind??

I explained what I was after, trying for all the world not to let her suspect that I had developed an unhealthy obsession with seeing this through over the course of the day. I laid out the details of what I’d like, including ample complements for the features that I was so eager to have her show off. In the end, she warmed to the idea.

\ that’s all? I mean, i thought you wanted something wild like a jar of my pee or something hahaha

== oh come on lollll give me a little credit. what do you think??

\ I don’t know how much to ask for this tbh

\ I hate talking about prices lol feels weird

== 200 bits??

\ OH FUCK OFF lol that’s way too much!

== wouldn’t be much of a way to keep you on here if it wasn’t worth your time. It’s only a hundred bucks total lol and I’d rather use them on you than elsewhere

\ goof

\ I won’t argue lol

\ I just need to get the stuff I guess but I can probably film tonight and send it over for you to wake up to <3

== that sounds great! I’m going out with my roommates tonight so I won’t see it till tomorrow anyway!

That was a lie; I’d F5 obsessively until the sun came up as soon as I got back from the party.

\ any brand preference lol

== lmao doesn’t matter. Jergins? lol that’s a brand, right??

Of course it’s a brand, I went through a gallon every semester.

\ lol works for me, I think my roommate has some haha I don’t think she’ll miss it

== you’re the best lol

\ get to your party goofball, I have a video to make

***********************************************

As it was St. Patrick’s day weekend, the party was a rager. University staff working in the building were powerless to halt the progress of the revelry as students tore up and down each floor of the residence block, spilling out onto the street, running wild across the campus and eventually circling back around to spill drinks through the hallowed halls of the dormitories all over again. It was wild to think that, just 6 short months ago, there wasn’t even a chance I’d be caught out at this kind of thing. I wasn’t much of a drinker, and steered clear of the more American Pie scenery, but I still enjoyed walking in and out of the open apartments in the building with my roommates to laugh at them routinely sucking at flip cup and choking their keg stands.

At about 10:30, we’d found ourselves on a girl’s floor; I watched in amusement as Brian tried desperately to line up his ping pong ball with the 2,4, or 8 cups that danced in his inebriated vision, erupting in cheers with the onlookers as his entire body froze, delicately clutched ball ready to throw, and keeled over sideways, passed out on the floor.

“He’s out cold!” Dave shouted at me from the side of the table, “you gotta take his shot!”

I opened my mouth to protest, knowing I’d make it easily but not wanting to embarrass myself if I didn’t, but felt my phone buzz in my pocket. The others were distracted pulling Brian away from the table, chasing some women off their own shitty futon to flop him onto; I took advantage of the opportunity to check my phone.

** KaylaB sent you a message **

I clutched the device to my chest, eyes darting around the room furtively to see if anyone might be looking over my shoulder. Back to the fridge in the kitchen area, I was safe from prying eyes while the other partiers were busy watching Brian try in vain to rally himself upright. I clicked the notification, and the app opened itself directly to my DMs.

\ I really hope you like this haha I had a lot of fun making it for you <3

\ [open attachment]

I made a last cursory check of the room; Brian was on the floor again but there was no way I’d be able to sneak out from here, especially if I was called upon to play his table for him again. It was worth the risk, even just for a peek. I clicked the attachment.

She kneeled a few feet from the camera, her phone presumably against a wall or something, on a towel in her room. The lighting wasn’t great, but I could see what I cared about; her body looked scrumptious in a red bikini that had featured prominently in a photoset she put out last month, tied straps stretched over both hips where they tied tightly in two bows, and a knotted bow holding the strained cups of her top together looked fit to burst if she sneezed too suddenly. Her hair was down, falling loose in soft brown waves that she’d been growing out for a few months now. Her hands ran up her thighs, slowly teasing me and I rued the setting for making it impossible to hear what she was saying; she’d judged the distance well enough to hide the top half of her face, but I could see her lips moving enough to recognize my own name as she continued to run her hands playfully over her hips and ass. She rocked side to side gently, turning this way and that in an adorable little half dance; being as curvy as she was, the little stretch marks that banded across her hips were one of my favourite things about her. Her dangling belly button ring swayed a hypnotic rhythm as she continued to explore herself just for me, guiding her touch up her torso to cup under her heavy, heavenly tits, shaking them enticingly.

God she was so hot, I was dying to get out of here to hear what she was saying. I waved absently to the calls to come take my shot, knowing I could risk a few more seconds. I was getting far too hot to move anyway. I watched, mouth practically watering, as she bit playfully at her lower lip, still cupping her chest, squeezing herself softly, then mouthing what I was sure to be “and now for you…”

She reached off to the side of the camera, pulling the white bottle with the red pump into view. My cock twitched in my jeans, knowing what was to come next. I looked on in rapture as she slowly squirted 2, 3, 4 generous pumps of the thick white cream over the top of her cleavage, delighting in the way several globs of it settled right between her breasts. Her pillowy lips made a quick “O” shape as the temperature of the lotion clearly shocked her, and she laughed a moment before setting the bottle down to rub both hands over her chest.

“For fuck’s sake Tom, get over here and take your fucking shot, your mom can wait dude” Dave yelled. I gave him the finger while my eyes remained glued to my tiny screen, watching her plunge her hand between the cups of her bikini top.

“No way man! Get over here or I’ll come get you myself!”

The hand not busy smearing the fragrant white lotion all over her chest reached up and took hold of the dangling end of the knotted tie that secured the top in place. She began to pull.

“I told you I’d come get you…” Dave said, entirely too close for comfort; tired of waiting, he’d come over to fetch me. I hardly had time to shove the phone in my pocket before I was coerced into place to round out the now comatose Brian’s match. Three balls appeared before me, in opposition to the three cups that remained at the other end of the table. The crowd hushed, my opponent smiled smugly at me from across the table. Cursing my dumb ass roommates, I tried to focus. Another second and I’d have gotten a glimpse of her glorious, big, brown nipples. Focus. Breathe. I’d start again when I got back. Breathe.

I squared up, arm cocked, blinking myself back to sobriety and reality, pushing her creamy, soft tits as far from my mind as I could. A deft toss, a quiet splash, a triumphant roar from the 2nd floor crowd, I’d made my first. The crowd settled, intent now on seeing this through; I needed to make all three in a row to avoid giving my opponent the chance to drain his last remaining to seal the deal. Again, I stepped up, drew back, and my ball found its mark, to the further delight of the crowd. I was high on the thrill of it. I’d need one more.

Kayla’s near-naked body and the promise of an opportunity to beat my cock into oblivion as soon as this was over fought the promise of eternal glory that I was sure to find if I was successful here. After all, what was the joy of seeing the most beautiful girl in the world, slick with shiny lube, whispering your name in sultry tones from lips that you’d kill to kiss next to the shear immortality of winning a beer pong match in your second year dormitory surrounded by people too drunk to remember your name.

Focus.

Breathe.

Become the ball.

Become the beer.

I crooked my elbow. Pinky out. I, and a few dozen strangers, held our breath as one. I drew back.

A smell, unmistakable in it’s clean and simple notes wafted under my nose, finding a way to shatter my focus, barreling down the walls of concentration and piercing straight to the heart of my fixation. Cherry, and almond, suspended in tea tree oil. Jergen’s original, I knew it anywhere.

I fucked the shot, watching in slow motion as the yellow ball careened away into the dark, melting in shame at the roars of disappointment, shocked into immobility by my failure. Brian shot upright and gagged a grotesque threat of impending vomit. The room resolved itself back to clarity, time resumed its inexorable crawl, and I stood alone, replete in my shame.

“Get him to the fucking bathroom, come on, get the fuck out of the way!” came the cry, as several people tried to carry the drunk martyred to the bathroom before he exploded.

I couldn’t have cared less. The wafting smell lingered in my nostrils, and I snapped my head back and forth, desperate to find it’s source. There was no chance it was a coincidence. I refused to believe it. Partygoers pushed, shoved, and crawled over each other in the small apartment to avoid the emergency processional pushing their way to the bathroom, one person on each of my roommate’s limp limbs.

“Oh my god open the fucking door,” one girl screamed in the commotion, “I’m not having this guy puke on my carpet”. Brian’s yawping yelps of protest rose above the din. The resident woman kicked the occupant, who’d been going through the medicine cabinet anyway, out of the way.

“Get him in here” she cried, and Brian was propped before the toilet and promptly forced headfirst into the bowl in the nick of time. My search was further intensified as I watched on, too concerned to be amused by the scene; the woman who apparently lived here, looking on as her toilet was befouled, bent to reach into the waste basket. What she fished out burned itself into my vision: a bottle, the very same kind Kayla had surely emptied all over herself in my video mere hours previously, pump handle unscrewed as though to greedily extract the last remnants.

She had to be here. I’d never spot her in the crowd. I’d need to recompose myself.

I pushed back to the relative safety of the kitchen, determined to use the less crowded room to study the video for a clue that might, inexplicably, reveal her to me. Maybe she’d been wearing some earrings, or a lipstick. I should know her body well enough, having furiously masturbated over it for months, but reason and rationale abandoned me. I pulled up the video again, studying everything furiously, hunched over the phone like a man possessed.

“Geez, what’s his problem” said a voice at my elbow, presumably about the fact that Brian had started crying on the tile floor of the bathroom. I was too engrossed to notice, muttering something noncommittal about him being an idiot and trusting the fridge at my back to protect me from discovery.

“Hey, you’re the pong guy,” the voice said, “it really was a nice try”. I mumbled my thanks, still poring over the paused video, too intent to pay the woman next to me any mind.

“What are you doing anyway, goofball?”

It wasn’t possible. It shouldn’t be possible. My breath abandoned me, and my heart’s beat took prompt sabbatical. It couldn’t be.

Green eyes. She had green eyes. 16 months ago, I’d stumbled on the most amazing woman I’d ever known, and the only one I’d ever felt like I could talk to, and never once had it occurred to me in my wildest dreams that she’d have green eyes. They pinned me in place.

“Are you okay dude? Do you need me to find someone for you? Let me grab you some water.”

She turned to open the cabinet with practiced familiarity, plucking a cup from her cupboard and running it under the tap.

“You’re freaking me out a bit there champ, have a drink” she laughed. My hand reached for the cup on it’s own accord.

“And here’s where you drink it all up like a big boy” she teased. I could only blink, slowly. I must have looked like an proper moron, clutching my phone to my chest with a look like I’d seen a ghost. She wore a plain white tee and maroon leggings now, but it was unmistakably her. She smelled like she’d bathed in the same thing I lubed myself up with nightly. I suppose, in hindsight, that she pretty much had.

“Hey come on now, you’re really not looking so hot. Can I text someone for you…” she reached for my phone. I squeezed it tight, but she insisted.

It was her turn to gasp. Managing to peel the phone away from my chest just far enough, Kayla was treated to the shock of a lifetime as her own near-naked body, greased up and shining in the low half light of her own room just down the hall, turned to greet her.

Long moments passed as we stood there staring at each other. She broke the truce first, reaching out to take the cup from my hand. Too gently, she set it back on the counter. I let her take my hand, and she wordlessly pulled me out of the kitchen, past the crowded bathroom where a fight was brewing over the wailing roommate, down the hall of the small apartment, and into a bedroom. She pushed me inside, closing the door behind herself.

The towel was still on the floor, though scrunched up and apparently gummed up with excess lotion. She must have cleaned herself up with it when she was done. Her dildo, the one I’d ordered for her, stuck firmly by it’s suction cup to a textbook; I hadn’t seen enough of the video to know for sure, but she must have ridden it for me. A red bikini string hung limp over the side of her laundry hamper. She just stood there, staring, as I took it all in. I looked back at the dildo, sticking straight up out of Aldritch’s “Proficiencies in English Composition”. It couldn’t be.

“It can’t be” she said. I was unsurprised that she could also read my mind. Why wouldn’t she?

I agreed with her. It really couldn’t be.

“Are you some kind of creep?” she asked. I promised I was not.

“You’re not a stalker or something?” I promised I wasn’t.

“You’re in my Comp class” she said, telling me what I knew. Of course she was in my Composition class. I’d nearly asked her out last term, chickening out because she looked too much like my crush.

She looked too much like herself.

I muttered that I was sorry, that I’d delete my account, drop the class we had together, and leave. She cut me off before my avalanche of words turned into an offer to drop out of school entirely.

“Shut up. Stop it” she demanded.

I had just wanted to help, I told her, adding that I was a fan, only a fan. She laughed at that.

“Well no shit you’re a fan,” she paused, intent on picking her words carefully, “I’m a fan too.”

For clarity, I asked if she meant to imply that she was a fan of mine.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re great. Your messages are sweet and…normal. I sit there all day getting borderline threatened to post shit I don’t want to, bombarded with pictures of 60 year old dicks, barely literate proposals of marriage, and then there’s you, sending me an invite to play fucking tic tac toe.”

I pointed out that the bar was pretty low if that was all it took.

“Yeah well, it matters to me. And, I hate to add because I hate how I know this because this shouldn’t be happening, but you’re pretty damn smart. It’s hard to come up with anything in class after you say something because it’s just, like, what’s the point?”

I thanked her, too awkward to know what else to say. Having lead us to a dead end, we just looked at each other for a minute. Or two, maybe.

“Well did you like it at least?”

I assumed she meant the video.

“Well yeah dumbass, the video. Was it good enough?”

I confessed that I’d missed the chance to get very far into it, having tried to watch it in her kitchen during her own house party, which carried on just outside her bedroom door still.

“Okay well, in the future, maybe don’t do that in my kitchen. That *is* a little weird.”

I blushed, embarrassed, and apologized.

“I think you’ll really like it,” she carried on, a coy note in her voice, “I really did have fun making it, even if it was super messy” she laughed, picking up the ruined towel to demonstrate the truth of the matter.

I did laugh at that. It was a little absurd, I had to admit. I told her she didn’t have to say that just because I was here.

“Shut up,” she laughed, “I’m not allowed to have fun and be a little dirty at the same time? The tips are fine but I do actually like doing it. Well, most of it.”

I asked why it was just most of it.

“Well come on, making horny stuff in my dorm bedroom isn’t the most liberating creative space. And there’s only so many ways you can fuck yourself before you end up recycling angles.”

I liked all her angles, I told her. They’re all great.

“Yeah well, sadly there might be a little less opportunity to enjoy them if I can’t get some more traffic. Your video helped, thank you by the way, but I’m almost a grand short for next term.”

I offered to make another order. I was serious, but she laughed, thinking it to be a joke. I repeated that I wanted to help.

“You’re actually serious, aren’t you? You know I can’t let you stay subscribed though, right? It’s too…weird. I know you now” she said, causing my heart to trip on itself. She knew me now.

She chewed on her lip again, just as she’d done in the video. God, she was beautiful.

“Sit down” she instructed, moving swiftly to clear a mountain of clothes off her bed, indicating where I was to go. I did as I was told.

“Okay,” she said, producing a scrunchie from nowhere and tying her hair back as she talked, “okay maybe you can help then. But we need to get some things straight first. If you get weird about it, it’s done. If you catch feelings, it’s done. If you say anything to anyone at all, it’s done. No exceptions. Especially the getting weird part. And maybe not the feelings part.”

I looked inquisitively at that last bit.

“Shut up,” she told me, sitting there silently, “the point is, this needs to be very cool. You need to be cool.” She stepped across the room, locking the door.

“I’m never going to get more followers if I just keep fucking myself and posting faceless titty pictures. So,” she peeled her shirt off without warning, revealing a plain black bra clasped in the front, “we’re gonna fuck now, and if you’re can handle it, then we’ll make some stuff together.” She dropped her leggings, tugging them off unceremoniously. She stood, proudly, hands on ample hips in front of me clad in just her underwear.

I gulped, nodding. I couldn’t tell her, but this would be a hell of a first time. My only lament was that I hadn’t cum since yesterday morning. I hoped I’d be able to last.

“Okay, good. Cool.” She looked around the room, in search of something. Looking back over her shoulder from the closet, she demanded I take my clothes off too. In utter compliance, and buoyed by the false courage of a mild buzz, I hustled to do as I was told, tearing my shirt and trousers off where I sat.

She turned back, focused on clipping her phone into a ring light on a tripod.

“I just want to set this up to see if I can keep our faces out of the shot. I’ve never filmed with someone else…”

She trailed off.

“Jesus Christ dude”.

I watched a lot of porn. Like a lot. If I wasn’t eating, sleeping, or actively doing school work, I was watching porn. The men, as you know, who feature in porn are comically large. Having only ever watched porn and never having seen another average dude erect in front of me, I always assumed that I was average at best. Kayla corrected my assumption.

“What do you mean, of course it is! How the fuck do you not know that you’re hung like a fucking beast. And you’re built like a fucking stick; what are you, like 50% cock? I don’t even think I can fuck that!”

My disappointment threatened to mount. I didn’t think being too big was a thing, but that’s just my inexperience in a nutshell.

Refusing to waste the opportunity either way, Kayla sank to her knees in front of me as I sat on the edge of the bed, between my open legs.

“This thing is going to piss so many people off,” she laughed, reaching out to take it in both hands, fists stacked on top of each other. She wasn’t talking to me, so much as speaking into my cock like a microphone. I noted that the tripod was facing the wrong way entirely. She tugged up and down a few times, eyes wide.

“I don’t know,” she laughed, “let’s see how this goes”. Without warning, she spat crudely onto the head of my cock, still gripped firmly in both hands, and worked the saliva up and down a few times. I couldn’t believe my luck, and couldn’t find it in me to care if I came too quickly. She abruptly fell to a little fit of laughter, and I was forced by infection to join her. This was all too much.

Satisfied that I was ready to perform, she rose to her feet again, telling me to lie back on the small single mattress, head toward the wall and feet still over the side; she’d ride me, she said, if it was the last thing she did. I observed in complete bliss as she unhooked the clasp of her bra and dropped it carelessly onto the ground, watching it fall. She turned to regard me, and the ridiculous grin that split my face from ear to ear. She gave her tits a little squeeze and winked.

“Oh come on, you’ve seen these a million times goofball,” she tugged at the waist band of her plain cotton undies and made a show of wiggling them down for me, bending low to proffer her hanging tits in a way that delighted me to no end. Naked entirely now, she struck a pose, hands on hips.

“Well? Shall we then?” I nodded like a grinning fool.

Her knees on either side of me, one hand on my chest, she mantled up and took my cock in her left hand. I gasped as she guiding it forward and nuzzled it up between her puffy lips, giving it a little shake. She was wet. I was surprised, for some reason, by that fact. I’d been lead to believe that women didn’t actually get wet unless you did something they liked. What had I done to deserve this?

“Do you feel that?” she asked, “thank god I’m so wet for you.” Her own grin made me think, made me dare to hope, that maybe she actually wanted me, and this had nothing to do with needing a filming partner after all.

I told her I loved it, hoping my ‘it’ would cover and convey a general appreciation for the entire length and breadth of everything between us.

“I do too” she said, and began to lower herself on to me.

By slow, torturous degrees, and with a half dozen adjustments, Kayla worked herself down onto me. It took nearly a minute before my blooming head was actually inside her more than superficially, and everything past that required slow, deep breaths to help her relax enough to accept me. In time, and with her fingernails digging into my chest more sharply than I was going to complain about, she neared the complete success.

“Good god, it just keeps…going” she said with a grunt, finally seating herself down on the entire thing. I was thankful she was facing me, and couldn’t see how my toes curled tightly behind her back. I’d never have expected something to feel so constrictive and soft at the same time. She sat up to full height, wincing.

“Nope, not that way” she said, obviously finding the angle to be too deep. She leaned back in, elbows on my chest, peeking at me with her chin on her hands.

“Hi there” she said with a wiggle.

I returned the greeting. I asked if she was okay.

“You have a very large dick, I hope you know.”

I pointed out that she’d know; it was all the way inside of her.

“I like it here,” she said. She lunged up an inch, kissing me quickly. The move served to bring her up and back down on my cock a few inches, eliciting a gasp.

I asked her to do that again. She did.

I smiled, looking her in her big, beautiful green eyes. I told her I liked it.

She did too. She wiggled a little more.

She kissed me again, not riding her hips back down, but keeping her lips on mine and arching her hips magically, milking the half of my length still inside of her. Her lips were impossibly soft on mine, and her tongue flicked out to probe my mouth. I kissed back, happily, and explored her body with my hands, eyes closed.

It worked for us, and we kept at it. Her, rocking her hips expertly, as I’d watched her do on her toy a hundred times, and me, groping and caressing the body that I’d longed to touch for nights uncounted.

Her pace quickened in time. I grew more comfortable in touching her, letting myself squeeze more insistently at her ass; I felt the smile through her kisses. I spread the cheeks apart in overlarge hands, gripping her roughly as she rode.

“Dirty boy” she growled in my ear.

“Do it again”. I did. I liked being her dirty boy. She hummed happily, pleased with herself.

Comfortably accustomed to me, she pulled back, eager to try to ride me at full height again. Used to my size and appropriately in the moment, she had no trouble this time, and buried her hands in her own hair and she bit at her own bicep, face turned away from me but torturously contorted in happy pain nonetheless. She ground herself back and forth on me and I took her breasts in each hand, gleefully squeezing and massaging them with abandon.

“Squeeze my nipples” she demanded with laboured breath. I did.

“Harder” she commanded, still talking to her own shoulder. I pinched them, sure I’d hurt her.

“Yes, motherfucker”. I took the praise gladly, but danger loomed. I was reminded of her apparent telepathy.

“Almost there,” she panted, “almost there oh god yes please fuck I’m almost there. Don’t you cum I’m almost there”. I bore down with everything I could, knowing there was precious little left to fight with. Her words poured on in an endless, unpunctuated torrent.

“yes yes yes oh yes please come on that feels so fucking good ohhh”

She squeezed me from within, harder than I could bear. I grabbed her hips hard, in desperate need for an anchor. She understood.

“Just fucking cum with me please just fucking cum with me give it all to me pleasejustcumwithmepleasefuckingcumrightnowpleaseIMCUMMINGPLEASE”

Individual words no longer resolved themselves and I was nothing if not her obedient little goofball. Planting my feet on the ground concretely, I pushed my hips heavenward and let myself erupt, unburdened by the need to resist any longer, deep inside of the writhing, screaming goddess in my lap. There wasn’t a chance she went unheard by the partiers outside, as her unstructured monologue gave way to feral cries of blissful exaltation.

Slowly, eventually, we came back to earth. She spent long minutes catching her breath, still seated on my softening cock, chuckling at the ceiling. Eventually, she remembered I was there too, and fixed me with a look of incredulity.

“What the fuck” she laughed, climbing off of me to stand, stretching her arms to the ceiling.

I asked if I’d do, sitting up.

“Oh my god yes,” she laughed, “you’ll fucking do.”

She pulled on a tshirt after giving it the sniff test. It was mine.

She skipped over to the bed, arms tucked playfully behind her back. She bent to kiss my cheek, looking pleased with herself.

“My little goofball”.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/12u9l8g/against_all_odds_how_subscribing_to_my_favourite